Angel of Death
by JK Corwin
Summary: (femslash: WT) Doctor Tara Maclay has an unforgetable Christmas (see profile to bigger preview)
1. Chapter 1

Hello!

_I'm Jamie and I just started writing a W/T fic. A friend of mine advised me to post here. I'm not much experienced in the way of writing, I do try to do my best, so please bear with the rookie here._

_This story is completely out of the Buffyverse, so no spoiler whatsoever. There won't be magic either, kinda. That's something I'm still deciding, so it may change on the course of the story._

_It may be confusing and cryptic at first, but it will clear up soon, I hope._

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**Chapter 1 - Christmas Killer**

It was very cold in New York that time of the year. Even with my heavy winter cloak, scarf and woolen gloves I was slowly freezing to death. I really hate it when I have late night shifts on winter. I got the Christmas shift this year again, just my luck. I'm beginning to think that it's my lack of social life that makes me a target for holiday shifts.

I am a 25 years old resident doctor, I'm intelligent and successful, some might even say beautiful but my 15 years old sister has had more romantic relationships this year than I had in my whole life. Depressing, isn't it?

It's Christmas and I have no one to celebrate it with. I can't even visit my family because of my work. My car is broken and none of my colleagues could drive me home, so here I am in the desert subway waiting for my ride home. When it arrives I waste no time getting in before I had hypothermia.

To my surprise I wasn't the only one in the subway that time of the night. A girl who looked no older than sixteen with vibrant red hair that contrasted starkly with her pale skin stood there in a long black coat. She looked at me briefly when I came in, but quickly turned her attention back to whatever she was listening on her headphones.

"Er, Merry Christmas." I broke the uncomfortable silence.

Again her eyes to me and I was startled by the lack of expression in those green orbs. Her face was absolutely serene, as if she was about to fall asleep and her eyes were just as dormant. She nodded, as if acknowledging my greeting and went back to looking out of the subway's window.

The silence overwhelmed me. Make no mistake, I wasn't some kind of chatterbox or anything. In fact I was a complete wallflower my entire High School, I think that time I looked more at my feet than anything else. But I kind of got used to never having a moment's peace later on. People are always milling about in the hospital and my neighbors aren't exactly the quiet type.

I was about to speak again when the subway stopped. The door slid open and a rat-faced man came in, rubbing his gloved hands to dispel the cold. He glanced at me and I shuddered under his appraising gaze, but then his eyes turned to my young companion. He gasped and turned around as if to run out of the subway, but the door had already closed.

What happened next I'll never forget as long as I live. The girl put a hand under her coat and took out a handgun. She pointed it at the cowering man and pulled the trigger. It was all so fast that I didn't even have time to react. I blinked and the man fell limply to the ground, a bullet hole in the center of his forehead. Then I reacted.

I screamed, curling myself in my seat. I thought then that my days were over, for I surely would be the next one with a bullet in me. The girl looked at me, that same serene expression still fixed on her face and put the gun back into her coat. She walked over to the fallen man, kneeling beside its corpse. I watched in morbid fascination as she gently closed his still open eyes and did a cross sign over his body.

"May your trial be just." I heard her whisper before getting back on her feet. She took a cellular from her pant pocket and dialed quickly.

"It's done." She said to whoever was on the other end and hung up, apparently not waiting for an answer.

It was then that the subway stopped once more. I looked at the open door nervously, contemplating an escape. She took that decision from me and headed for the door, pausing briefly to look back at me.

"Merry Christmas."

To Be Continued…

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_Well, I'll wait for the tomatoes now._

_Jamie_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – Suspicious Behavior**

It took me a while to recover from the shock. I had just witnessed a teenager murder a man in cold blood. My heart was still racing when I left the subway, quickly heading for the nearest police station.

The officers on duty looked at me like I was crazy as I ranted and raved about the murder. It was obvious that they wouldn't take me seriously if I behaved like a madwoman, so I, as calmly as possible, asked to speak with the commanding officer. A well meaning lieutenant took me to their Captain's office and introduced me to a burly middle-aged man. He dismissed the lieutenant and shook my hand before asking what the problem was.

By then I had calmed considerably and was able to explain what happened in detail. As I described the teenage killer I notice the Captain going pale. He looked around nervously after I finished my tale, fidgeting on his chair as if searching for his words.

"You needn't worry, Doctor Maclay, we'll take care of everything now." He assured me rather unconvincingly.

"Just like that?" I lifted an eyebrow at him, letting him know that I wasn't going to fall for that bullshit.

"Yes, well, it _is_ our job after all." He fingered the collar of his shirt. "I thank you for your cooperation, Doctor, we'll start working on it right away."

I shot him a piercing look, one my mother had often used on me when she thought I wasn't telling her something. Apparently it had the same effect on him as it had on me. He reddened, his eyes darting around nervously.

"This isn't the first time a murder like this happened, is it Captain?"

"Of course not, NYC is full of creeps, people are dyin' everyday." He stalled.

"Would you happen to know this redhead, Captain?" I insisted, determined on making him cave.

"Look, ma'am, this really ain't none of your business." He glared at me, confirming my suspicion that there was more to it than he was letting on.

"That's where you're wrong, my dear Captain. I just witnessed a murder, so it is very much my business to know what's going on here."

He opened his mouth to protest, but I cut him off before he could do so. "I could simply go to your superiors, I'm sure they would be happy to enlighten me. I, however, am not sure if they would be so happy to know this highly suspicious attitude of yours, Captain."

He paled considerably, looking panicked for a moment. He grunted something under his breath and opened a drawer on his desk. For a second I feared he would pull a gun on me, but he took out what looked like a simple business card.

"You listen now, lady, you're getting more in your plate than you can chew. I'm just followin' my orders, but if you want answers it's with this man you ought talk to." He thrust the card into my hand.

I looked at it curiously, noticing there was only a phone number, no name or anything. "Thank you, Captain, you've been most helpful." I said, pocketing the card.

"If I were you I'd just forget what happened and stay as far from this whole thing as possible." He said somberly.

"Not likely." I told him over my shoulder as I exited his office.

I walked out of the station, ignoring the curious looks I got from the officers, and walked briskly to my apartment. I had a phone call to make.

To Be Continued…


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 – More Questions**

The next day I woke up bright and early, anxious to get on to my appointment. As soon as I had arrived home last night I called the number the Captain gave me, not even caring what ungodly hour it was. A man with a distinct British accent answered, appearing neither surprised nor angered at being called so late in the night. He was patient and listened to my story and very politely told me that even though he couldn't talk about the murder on phone he would like to meet me in a coffee shop near my house to discuss it.

So I put some old jeans and a warm sweater, grabbed my jacket and went to his encounter. I choose a table in the far back of the shop as he instructed me to and ordered myself a mocha. Five minutes passed and a man sat on the chair across my table. He looked remarkably like a High School librarian with his framed glasses and tweed jacket.

"Doctor Maclay?" it was the same British accent from last night.

I nodded, shaking his extended hand.

"My name is Agent Rupert Giles, I work for the Interpol."

I felt my eyes widen. "Interpol?"

"Precisely." He adjusted his glasses. "It seems that you bore witness to a rather unsavory act."

"A murder." I clarified, tired of the whole beating around the bush thing.

"Not exactly, doctor."

"What?" I said incredulously. "What do you mean, 'not exactly'? That kid put a bullet on a innocent man's head, where I come from that's called a murder."

"That 'kid', doctor Maclay, is not a child at all, she's twenty years old. And that innocent man, as you put it, was wanted for several accounts of murder, rape and child abuse."

"Oh." I said intelligently, my brain not quite done processing all that the Englishman said. "But… But… Shouldn't he had been given a trial or something?"

"In my opinion, yes, but sadly I have no control over Ms. Rosenberg's actions."

Well, at least now I had a name to go with the face. "She's an American agent then?"

"No, doctor, I'm afraid she's not under any government's orders."

That startled me. She was acting on her on? I frowned. "Shouldn't she be arrested then?"

To my surprise he just chuckled. "We tried, doctor, we really did. She's been arrested several times by the Interpol and also by the CIA, but no one seems to be able to keep her."

"What do you mean?"

"She always disappears by the next day. We tried everything from chains to the most advanced security technology can offer, but she escapes each and every time. She leaves no trace, none of the guards can ever remember what happened, it's a mystery."

"So you just… let her do whatever she wants?"

"We don't have much choice per se, but plainly stating, yes. She kills only criminals of the worst kind, you see. When we questioned her she said it was her mission on Earth."

By then I was gaping at him rather unattractively I'm sure. "How long has this been going on?"

"Years. She travels all over the world killing terrorists, murderers, rapists, always using the same method: a single bullet on the center of the forehead. Some of you American agents, I believe, have taken to calling her 'Headshot Red'." He said with obvious disgust, whether it was for the nickname or the agents themselves I couldn't tell.

"So no one does a thing about it?"

He looked at me in the eye and I suddenly felt like a petulant child. "No one _can_ do anything, doctor, that was plain from the start. So we just made a deal with her to avoid further problems."

"What kind of deal?" I asked uneasily, I had a bad feeling about this.

"She tells us where she is and who are her targets and we leave her alone and out of papers."

"WHAT!" I shouted, attracting the attention of most of the other costumers. Blushing, I waved then off and lowered my voice. "I can't believe it!"

"We don't want to cause unnecessary panic." He said tolerantly.

"_Unnecessary!_" I hissed.

"She isn't a threat to innocent bystanders."

"What happens when there are no more criminals to kill? I won't be surprised if we end up with a mass murderer in our hands!" I seethed, angry with his lack of care for all those lost lives.

He smiled at me ruefully. "I once asked her that same question?"

"And what was her answer?" I was curious despite myself.

"She said 'Then I'll thank the Lord for my trial will finally be over'."

I was speechless, what one could say to that?

"Doctor Maclay, I appreciate your concern but it would be best if you refrained from commenting this with anyone."

I shook my head, struggling with my words. "I can't do that, what if she starts killing indiscriminately? It's bad enough killing only criminals, but what if she suddenly goes on rampage? I can't afford that risk, people have to be warned."

He sighed. "Perhaps you should talk with Ms. Rosenberg herself."

"What?" I squeaked in a much undignified way. "You want me to talk with her?" _With that killer?_ I added in my mind.

Nodding, he produced a pad and a pen from his jacket and started scribbling something. "If you understand her motives better you might be more willing to cooperate. Perhaps you can enlighten me on them later too."

"But-"

"She won't harm you, doctor, if she wanted to she would have done so last night. Here." He tore a sheet from his pad and handed it to me. "She's always in this church on Sundays."

"Church?" my eyebrows went up to my hairline.

"Indeed." He smiled. "You'll find Ms. Rosenberg quite different from your expectations, I'm sure."

Then he bid me a good day and left me staring at the address in my hands.

To Be Continued…


End file.
